


Take a look at the Lawman

by GhostOfDorothyStreet



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Cop Oswald AU, Ed being awkward, M/M, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 07:31:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10692534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostOfDorothyStreet/pseuds/GhostOfDorothyStreet
Summary: When you're born on the wrong side of Gotham, there are two options for making something of yourself - organised crime, or the police force.In a world where things went just a little differently, Oswald Cobblepot chose the latter...





	1. First sight

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be more of a series of ficlets than a flowing chaptered story, some from Oswald's POV, some from Ed's, and maybe a few others. There may be violence or sexual content in later chapters, and I will change the rating to reflect that if and when that happens.

Edward Nygma was a man of science. A man who put stock in facts, figures, cause and effect. He didn’t care for notions of supernatural beings, ghosts, or monsters, or fairies. He considered it statistically unlikely that aliens didn’t exist somewhere in the universe, but found the idea that they had ever visited earth laughable.

But that didn’t mean he was entirely free of superstitions. He believed in fate, he believed in love at first sight, and he believed in destiny, in the idea that there was somewhere he was meant to be, something he was meant to do with his life.

However, some days he couldn’t help questioning that notion.

It was his first day working at the GCPD. He’d visited the building before as part of the interview process, but that was hardly enough to make it familiar or comfortable territory. As he pushed open the heavy doors, the place seemed impossibly large, full of the harsh voices of strangers that echoed off the high ceiling, and the cold smell of metal and ground in floor polish mixed with hint of sweat and blood. He clutched his papers close to his chest as he descended the steps to the front desk, flinching at the sound of a burst of laughter from a group of large, uniformed men. It was the first day of school all over again.

He hovered awkwardly a few steps away from the front desk, unsure of quite what was expected of him. He had a vague sense of where the lab was, but was pretty certain he shouldn’t just head in that direction without first announcing his arrival. But everyone seemed so busy and like they wouldn’t appreciate having their no doubt vital police work interrupted by a new ‘lab monkey’ who didn’t know his way around yet. He adjusted his grip on his papers, shuffling his feet and hearing his shoes squeak slightly on the floor, keeping his head down in subconscious self-defence.

"Sir? _Sir?_ "

A voice cut through the low hum of background chatter, catching Ed’s attention, and he looked up.

Straight into the eyes of the most striking man he’d ever seen.

He was a small man, this officer, even sat behind a desk that much was obvious; slim and angular, with sharp features and jet black hair. But what made Ed’s stomach flip over was the searching look in the man’s pale eyes, how they seemed to take in everything about Ed in a single glance…

"Is there something I can help you with?"

Ed gaped at him for a moment, mouth hanging open, before stammering out a reply.

"Um, yes. Maybe. Hopefully…"

He adjusted his glasses to stall for time while he composed himself.

"My name is Edward Nygma, I’m here to start work in the forensics department. I uh, I have a letter, a job offer, and my identification documents."

He thrust his papers awkwardly at the officer, who took them from him with a raised eyebrow.

"Ah, Mr Nygma," he leafed through the papers and gave Ed a tight smile, "The M.E. did mention you would be joining us today."

He reached into a drawer and pulled out a form.

"You’ll need to fill this out and take it down to human resources, they’ll give you a copy to take to Miss Kringle in the records office. They’ll also need to take your photo for your I.D. card, unless you’ve brought one with you?"

Ed shook his head, and the officer gave him a sympathetic look, clicking his tongue.

"Shame. I warn you now, the photos are never flattering. They say if you look like your I.D. photo it means you’re too sick to be in work."

He rose out of his seat, confirming Ed’s suspicions about his stature and causing another flutter in low in Ed’s belly as he took note of how well the uniform suited the man's slim figure. He leaned forward across the desk to hand Ed the form, then beckoned Ed forward with one hand, bracing the other against the table for balance, and pointed towards a set of stairs.

"You’ll need to go up those stairs, through those double doors, and down the corridor. You’ll pass a bank of vending machines on your left, and once you’ve passed those it’s the third door to the left," he touched Ed’s arm gently, "Got all that?"

Ed looked down at him, his mouth dry.

Green, those remarkable eyes of his were a beautiful pale green.

"Yes. Yes, I’ve got that."

The officer smiled at him.

"Good. If you need anything just ask, I’m here all day."

Ed nodded, folding his new form in half and tucking it into his jacket pocket.

"Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind. Officer...?"

"Cobblepot. Sergeant Cobblepot."

"Sergeant Cobblepot," Ed smiled, pleased both to have found someone helpful, and by the way the sergeant’s name sounded and felt as he said it.

Sergeant Cobblepot returned his smile, and sat back down, shuffling some papers on his desk.

"I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around, Mr Nygma."

"I certainly hope so, Sergeant Cobblepot," said Ed, fighting a nervous tremor in his voice.

He turned quickly and headed for the stairs before he could say anything stupid by accident, his heart hammering in his chest. He’d only spoken to the helpful, strikingly attractive desk sergeant for a few moments, but that was enough.

Edward Nygma had always believed in love at first sight.


	2. Second glance

"You can shout all you want, detective, it won’t get you those statements back any sooner… Well, perhaps that’s something you should have thought about before you agreed to switch shifts with him, you know what he’s like…"

Oswald rubbed at his temples as he listened to Alvarez ranting on the other end of the line. He could feel the beginnings of a monstrous headache building, and his shift had barely begun

"All right, I can call him, but you know as well as I do that it might not do any good, and I have about ten other things I need to get done before I can prioritise that… All right, all right consider it done, but might I remind you, detective that this is the third favour I’ve done for you this month… No, it's not a threat, just consider it a friendly reminder."

He put the phone down with more force than was strictly necessary, and huffed out an irritated sigh as he pulled up the number of Alvarez’s partner in the rolodex on his desk. He didn’t have the time or the patience for this sort of nonsense today.

In honesty, this sort of juvenile nonsense from the detectives took up an irritatingly large amount of his time, despite having nothing to do with what he had really joined the police force to do. He reassured himself that large sections of the precinct would descend into chaos without him – Gotham’s detectives not being known for their organisational skills, either in their official duties or their more off the books dealings – but some days he felt like little more than a glorified errand boy or messenger, and it stirred something dark and bitter in the pit of his stomach.

His career had looked so promising once; he’d been on track to become one of the youngest detectives in GCPD history at one point. Of course, that was all before his accident.

Well, officially it was an accident, Fish Mooney had made sure of that.

It was his own fault, in a way. His own fault for being arrogant, being too sure of his own cleverness and getting ahead of himself. Fish had never wanted to see him on duty on her streets again, and she got her wish.

He knew he should count himself lucky; he was alive after all, he still had a job, still had all his limbs even if one was only partially functional. But every step he took reminded him of the pain he had suffered at Fish’s hands. Of the fact that while others who started out at the same time as him, officers who were far less intelligent, far less observant than him, got to rise in the ranks, his own career had died in its cradle.

Shortly after Oswald hung up on Alvarez’s partner, a bike messenger arrived with a stack of papers, which he signed for with a flourish. A brief perusal of their contents told him that they were part of an ongoing homicide investigation led by Detective Bullock, and a flicker of a smile crossed his face. Harvey Bullock could be crass and irritating, but he was by no means the worst of the detectives Oswald had to deal with. For one thing, Bullock actually had a brain in his skull, even if he didn’t use the thing nearly enough.

He heaved himself out of his hair, leaning heavily on his cane. The weather was cold and the station draughty, which always played hell with his leg. He’d put in a request for a heater, but the budget being what it was there was little to no chance of him ever receiving one.

After limping over to Bullock’s desk, Oswald dropped the files in front of him, startling the detective out of a daydream. Or possibly a literal dream, he’d heard older beat cops talk about the old on-duty trick of sleeping with one’s eyes open.

"Jesus Christ, Penguin," Bullock groused, shifting in his chair with a grunt, "Give a guy a heads up will you."

Oswald shot a glare at Bullock, irritated by the detective’s use of that particular nickname, which he knew full well Oswald disliked. He leaned over and tapped pointedly at the stack of papers.

"The phone company sent over the list of calls from the Grover house from the 15th to the 17th, and surprise surprise, they do not match the statement the husband gave us."

"Goddamn it, I knew that guy was a scumbag," Bullock leafed through the papers, scratching thoughtfully at his beard, "Forensics send over the report on the murder weapon yet?"

Oswald shook his head.

"Not as of yet, but they did just bring on a new hire which should speed things up."

"That the guy you were talking to the other day? Kinda looks like a giraffe had a baby with one of those shaky little rat dogs?"

Oswald folded his arms and gave Bullock a disapproving look.

"Really, Harvey?"

To his credit, the detective did manage to muster a somewhat reluctant apology.

"Sorry," he grumbled, "Man, you are no fun this morning."

Oswald gave him a tight smile.

"It’s fine. One of these days I’ll let you in on all the names the boys in uniform call you," he picked up his cane and turned back towards the front desk, "I’ll let you know if anything else comes in for the Grover case."

He ignored the sound of Bullock calling his name, demanding to know what kind of names he was talking about in an increasingly loud and annoyed voice, and returned to his desk. He collapsed into his seat with a sigh, just in time to field yet more phone calls.

The hours dragged by slowly until the evening, an hour before the end of Oswald’s shift, when there was a sudden burst of excitement in the shape of a double homicide in the diamond district. Uniformed officers and detectives alike sprang into action, along with a team from forensics that included the new hire, Mr Nygma.

Watching the tall young man scurry after the rest of the team, hands buried deep in the pockets of his padded rain jacket, Oswald did have to admit that Harvey had something of a point. He did have something of a 'small frightened animal' aspect to him, despite the fact that he towered over the rest of the team. Something about those large dark eyes, even behind the lenses of his glasses, and the quick, nervous way he moved, as though always on the alert for predators…

As if sensing Oswald’s gaze on him, Nygma looked up and gave him a shy sort of smile and an awkward wave, not waiting for Oswald to return it before hurrying away after his superiors.

Oswald watched him go, before returning to his paperwork.

That poor soul was going to get eaten alive.


End file.
